Gradually
by anastasia 1234
Summary: A long one-shot about Clint and Natasha from when he brings her to SHIELD, to shawarma. slight romance, kinda.


**okay so this is just a progression of clint and natasha's friendship. i just randomly wanted to write a oneshot:**

**I don't own the avengers...**

* * *

**Clint's POV-**

"Why didn't you kill her agent?" Fury was fuming at the archer who sat in a chair across the other side of the table. "She is a Russian Spy! Probably one of the hardest targets you have ever faced and you want to spare her?!"_._

"Yes sir." Hawkeye said, watching calmly as his Director ranted and raged, pacing about the room.

The agent's simple answer just fed the flames of Fury's temper, "You better have a dang good reason for this Barton or so help me I'll…"

The director was interrupted by Clint's scoff, "you'll what director? Fire me? Lose your best agent?"

Fury's nostrils flared. He looked about ready to hit the man that sat still unfazed by his temper. With a loud curse, fury brought his fist down hard on the table, causing everyone listening in on the conversation to jump, except Clint, who didn't even flinch.

Clint's voice was quiet, "Sir, I will take a punch if _that _will help. You and I are one of the only ones who know I've had plenty of practice."

Fury paced some more before stopping in front of the archer's intense gaze and took a deep breath to suppress his anger, but after Barton said that, Fury's gaze seemed to have softened, "okay Barton. You haven't let me down yet, so I'll hear you out. Why? Why didn't you kill her? Coulsen informed me you had the chance over seven times, and yet you refused to take the shot."

Clint's intense blue-grey eyes seemed to darken. "I get it."

Fury huffed in frustration, "you get what?"

"I get what she's going through."

At this the director just gave him an incrudaculous look before leaning across the table, putting his weight on his hands, looking the archer dead straight in the eye. "Care to elaborate? Barton?"

The archer, obviously getting annoyed by the interrogation abruptly stood, and leaned closer to the Director in a low dangerous voice, "I know what it's like to grow up not knowing the difference between pain, and kid's normal lives. To feel like the only choice you can take is the dark one, because in the end, it may not be right, but its survival."

There was a moment of silence before he continued, "I know what it's like to wonder if you're going to make it till tomorrow, or you wonder if someone in the world will start to care. Pretty soon, time goes on, and you realize that all the other kid's lives, all the happy roads that people take, and all of the love, is based on lies. It's all one big fat lie that people build their trust and hope on, until it all goes crashing down. So you learn to push all your cares down to get the job done. I know what it's like to need a second chance Fury. And a second chance is what got me _here._" Clint said pointing down at the table.

And with that he walked out of the room, leaving a speechless Fury. But before he left, he turned at the doorway. "And I'll handle her. I'll be her partner until she can be trusted enough to go on solo missions, and I'll even train with her." He was about to leave again, but turned around one last time, "after all this is over, you'll be thanking me, Sir," he said with a final nod, and left.

Yelling over his shoulder, he called, "Romanoff, with me." and headed off.

* * *

**Natasha's POV-**

Natasha fiddled with the cuffs around her wrists. They had started rubbing, causing a red sore spot. She was being led into some type of observation room, with three rows of chairs and a large window looking in on a small room. The room had a chair and desk in the center, and the walls were all white.

_What are they going to do with me? What's going on? _These questions were echoing in her head, and did a double take when she saw the man who had spared her, and a man she'd only heard rumors about walk into the room.

Just as the blonde man sat in the chair, another man sat next to me in the observation room. She looked over to see a slightly aged face that had no emotion in it, but his kind eyes showed concern. "Hello Miss Romanoff. I believe we haven't officially met. I'm Agent Coulsen, agent Barton's handler. When she gave him a confuse look he quickly added, "But I believe you know him as Hawkeye."

Then it all clicked. So this man, Hawkeye, had made a different call to save her life, against his boss's judgment. And the man she was sitting next to now was his handler. "Hello," she started awkwardly.

Even after all of her Russian mission experience where she would seduce and act girly, she didn't know how to sincerely have small talk without it being an act. So she decided to just start asking questions,

"What's going on? And why does it look like Nick Fury is questioning Hawkeye?" she said gesturing to the scene playing out on the other side of the window.

The concerned look in his eyes grew just slightly, "Hawkeye disobeyed orders when bringing you here, let alone bringing you here fully functioning and alive. So the Director is questioning him."

She nodded. At least there was one thing that made sense around here. If you didn't follow orders, you're punished. "Okay, but why didn't he kill me?"

Coulsen raised his eyebrows. The question obviously caught him off guard.

"I mean," she continued, trying to put her confusion into words. "Everyone who has ever been sent to kill me has ended up dead. Yet he bested me, and then offered me a job instead of killing me right there and then. Why? Does he not know everything I've done?"

Coulsen took a moment to scan her before answering, "I believe you will have to ask him his reasoning's, and yes he does know everything you've done, even your number of kills, but for the moment be quiet, follow orders, and you won't be killed unless director Fury says otherwise."

At this she scoffed.

"I'm serious Widow. You're already in deep; don't start digging a bigger hole for yourself after Hawkeye's put so much on the line for you."

Natasha looked over at the older man. There had been a threat in his voice almost, as if saying 'you hurt my agent, I hurt you.' So she just gave a small nod.

"Good, now let's see what happens to my agent. Whatever he saw in you must have been good because every target he's ever had, ended up in a body bag, so be happy about that." There was a small sense of pride she heard in his voice when he said that, and Natasha then concluded that this handler and his agent must be pretty close.

Coulsen interrupted her thought's once more, "now let's listen." He said gesturing to the questioning, and she looked forward to see Fury pacing like a mad bull.

The conversation drifted to her ears through the glass…

_"Why didn't you kill her agent? She is a Russian spy! Probably one of the hardest targets you've ever been sent to kill and you want to spare her?"_

_"yes sir"_

At his short reply, Natasha then finally got a better look at the man that had spared her. He had spiky blonde hair, muscular arms that had pale white scars etched in his skin. He was sitting at the chair with an emotionless face that matched even her masked intensity. She was impressed with how composed he was able to stay as his boss continued to rage.

_"You better have a dang good reason for this Barton or so help me I'll…"_

_"You'll what director? Fire me? Lose your best agent?_

At his taunt, she was surprised that the legendary Nick Fury didn't slug the man, or pull out a pistol and just finish him off right there, but instead he slammed his fist on the table so loudly, she actually flinched.

She never flinched, but with the intensity of the scene, and the unfamiliar surroundings, it caused her to be a bit on edge. She even found herself worried for the archer. Why did she care? She never cared for anyone except just needing to survive another day.

Then she heard Clint say something. It was quieter, almost barely audible but she managed to make out, _"Sir, I will take a punch if that will help. You and I are one of the only ones who know I've had plenty of practice."_

This caught her way off guard. What did he mean plenty of practice? Did he have a messed up past just like her? The curiosity of the archer only increased. He was the only person she'd ever met that she _hadn't _been able to get a clear read on. It was like he let others see what he wanted them too, and kept everything else inside. Just like her.

What surprised her even more was the aftermath of his sentence caused the Director's gaze to soften. An understanding of what he had just said seemed to pass between the two. And when she looked at the man next to her, she heard a small sigh escape the man. His brows were furrowed in discontent. Obviously, he understood what had just been said also.

The conversation continued…

_"Okay Barton. You haven't let me down yet, so I'll hear you out. Why? Why didn't you kill her? Coulsen informed me you had the chance over seven times, and yet you refused to take the shot."_

At this comment, she straightened in her chair slightly. He could have shot her _seven times? _How could she have let her guard down to the point where one man could have killed her that many times? She was angry at herself for not being careful enough, and let out an exasperated sigh.

When three foreign words reached her ears…

_"I get it."_

She found herself staring at Hawkeye. His gaze had darkened. Was he claiming that he understood her? _Yea right, _she thought. _No one knows. No one understands what my life is like._

_"You get what?" _

She noticed the director looked confused, and she felt Coulsen glance at her as if trying to see her reaction to the confession.

Just then, Hawkeye stood from his seat and said in a low dangerous voice that she knew everyone but her, couldn't make out. Russia had trained her ears to be the best, but she could still barely make out the words.

_"I know what it's like to grow up not knowing the difference between pain, and kid's normal lives. To feel like the only choice you can take is the dark one, because in the end, it may not be right, but its survival."_

Her heart started picking up pace. His words echoing in her head, described her life perfectly. She didn't realize she was leaning forward in her chair, trying to listen intently.

_"I know what it's like to wonder if you're going to make it till tomorrow, or you wonder if someone in the world will start to care. Pretty soon, time goes on, and you realize that all the other kid's lives, all the happy roads that people take, and all of the love, is based on lies. It's all one big fat lie that people build their trust and hope on, until it all goes crashing down. So you learn to push all your cares down to get the job done. I know what it's like to need a second chance Fury. And a second chance is what got me here."_

Her thoughts were spinning. Maybe he did understand her. Her curiosity peaked and she started to wonder what had happened in this man's past that caused him to know exactly everything she's been through.

Just then, she realized that Hawkeye was still talking, and it was about her.

_"I'll handle her. I'll be her partner until she can be trusted enough to go on solo missions, and I'll even train with her. After all this is over, you'll be thanking me, Sir."_

As he disappeared off the scene, she couldn't help but give a small smile at the look that Hawkeye left on Nick Fury's face.

Just then, she heard someone call her, "Romanoff. With me."

She looked over at Coulsen in confusion.

"He's asking you to follow him. He probably just wants to talk to you." Coulsen elaborated. She gave a small nod, and was about to walk away to catch up to the archer, when Coulsen caught her wrist, she turned to see an intense look in the man's face.

"Listen Widow, don't underestimate him. Or me, or Fury. I still don't completely trust you, and I _will _be watching." He warned, before gesturing for her to go.

She speed-walked out of the room of the observation window and nearly crashed into someone.

"Come on." The person she crashed into said, before grabbing her already sore and cuffed wrists and pulling her along through hall ways and quarters.

She soon felt the hand release her and when he turned she saw it was Hawkeye himself. Now, being a few feet in front of him, she saw his eyes. They were a sky-ocean blue, mixed with a stormy-sad grey. They had such an intense look in them, she wondered if his eyes alone were the only reason for his code name.

"Hello Romanoff. I believe we got off to a rough start." He said vaguely, with a hint of humor in his eyes.

She gave him a small smile, "yes, I believe it went a little downhill when we lunged at each other with knives."

At this he gave her a full smirk. "Just maybe." There was a moment of silence as Natasha took in the surroundings of the room he had brought her in.

If you could even call it a room; the ceiling was high, the walls were covered in mats, in one corner a boxing ring was placed, in the other, and targets were lined in a row along the wall. There was even some equipment that looked strangely like gymnastics equipment to practice on. It was a training gym.

"Welcome to the gym. You can use any of the equipment that you like, the boxing ring is open anytime day or night." He said as she continued to scan the area.

She scoffed slightly at the idea. "Who would train at night?"

When silence was her answer she looked over at Hawkeye to find him not there. In fact, he wasn't anywhere. She frowned, slightly agitated at herself for not sensing that he was gone. "Hello?" she said hesitantly, feeling rather stupid for talking to nobody, and angry that he had just suddenly left.

"You'd be surprised." A voice called said.

She abruptly turned on alert and instinct and saw that Hawkeye now stood where he wasn't two seconds previously, near the open mat floor. She expected that area was used for group sparring.

Instead of asking how he had done that, she tried to hide her discomfort behind mockery, "you know that's creepy right? You're not going to attract a lot of women that way." She said walking over to the same area, and stopping a few feet in front of him.

At this, he gave a small chuckle, "well lucky for you, I'm already taken so you don't have to worry about my womanizing skills."

She raised an eye brow. She was actually surprised that he had someone, considering having someone so close just showed weakness. Maybe they're not as alike as she thought. "Oh? And how will she feel when she finds you took on a Russian woman in a tight cat suit as a partner?"

His face remained in a side-smirk, "I didn't say I was taken by a woman, I'm taken by my job. Dedicated you could call it. I'm afraid 'love' isn't in my vocabulary except when seducing targets. _Real _love is for children. Either that or for coffee, I'm afraid that's the only thing I can say I actually love. That and archery of course."

_Did he just say love is for children? Wow, he's like a male version of me. weird, _Natasha thought to herself but chuckled at his reply about coffee.

"I guess coffee is your weakness then? Isn't it dangerous to let someone like me to know that?" she said with a slight teasing.

He shrugged, "well we're going to be partners anyway, and I already know everything about you so I figured you knowing that I love coffee won't hurt."

At this she cocked an eyebrow, "I don't think you know everything about me Hawkeye." She said with sincerity.

He looked her straight in the eyes, never wavering, "I hacked into Russian files about the Red Room program and found your file. Your file had charts of what they had you do, every day since you started the program at nine."

At this she took a step back. That was more information than any living man knew about her, and she didn't like it.

He continued, "I also observed you for two weeks, and learned the way you work, the way you think, and how to read your emotions, though I will admit, I have never seen a better emotionless mask than yours. Even Coulsen is easier to read, though most get confused because he doesn't look like that many people would expect in a job like this."

She took another step back. She felt vulnerable under his icy gaze and wanted it to stop. It's not the first time someone knew that much about her, but everyone that ever had, ended up dead. This was a different situation.

The tension in the room filled as did the silence, until Hawkeye finally walked up to her a few feet away. She wanted to step back at the sudden approach, but stood her ground.

All tension was broken when he held out his hand, "Clint Barton." Was all he said.

She furrowed her brows just slightly, "excuse me?" she asked, confused about the meaning.

He gave her another small smile, "well, I know your name, but you only know me as Hawkeye. So, I'm introducing myself. I'm Clint Barton."

Her eyebrows shot up, but she couldn't stop the small smile that formed on her lips. She was about to reach out to shake his hand when she remembered she still had cuffs on and frowned at the ache in her wrists.

Clint, seeing the problem frowned slightly also, "yea sorry about those. Coulsen is known to put them on a little tight, especially to those he thinks are a threat." He said reaching over, typing in a code at the side of the thick metal clasps, and they released her wrists. "Trust me, I should know." He added discreetly at the end of the sentence.

She started rubbing her wrists when she caught the end of his statement, "what?"

His face quickly fell into its unreadable state as he sternly warned with a single mutter, "nothing."

More mysteriousness, she began to become more and more curious about this man but decided to push all her questions away, and then asked, "Can we spar?"

He looked at her with a still stoic face, as if searching for any flaw or lies in her words. It was obvious he still didn't trust her completely. She could tell by the look in his eyes when he looked at her, it was something that she guessed was affected in his past.

He only gave her a simple nod before heading to the corner of the large mat. They were both in their uniforms, his sleeveless SHIELD uniform, and her usual black cat suit.

When he gave a stiff nod, they immediately went into action. Dodge, kick, right, hook, dodge, spin kick, dodge, dodge, punch, forward, dodge etc.

When suddenly they were locked in combat, literally. She had his right arm trapped between her left forearm and side, but his hand was twisted around with a grip on her wrist, causing that arm to be unmovable. While his left arm had her right twisted in an awkward position, but he couldn't move it any further from the way she was pulling on his forearm. They were on the ground, her above him, her legs pinning his, but still unable to make a blow, knowing that if she made a move with a knee to his groin, he would take the opportunity to launch her off of him.

"Now what?" he said surveying their position, trying to think of a way out.

She smiled coyly. Their faces were inches from each other and she knew just how to get out of situations like this. All she had to do was cause a distraction for him and he would falter, giving her the moment she needed to make her move to victory. Men were weak, and this was always last resort, but every man she had ever made this move on ended up dead. At least this time it wasn't some ugly creep craving her. In fact, she was very aware of his toned body and handsome rugged face, so she made her move.

Dipping her head to close the distance, her lips clashed onto his in a passionate kiss. She expected him to shift positions, or kiss back and forget everything except that her lips were against his, but something slightly unexpected happened.

He kissed back just as any man longing for lust would, but it overwhelmed her as he kissed with a passion and intensity she's never felt before. He soon _did _move his hands, but instead of giving her an opening, he brought his hand around her back and pushed her against him with the help of gravity, so she lay directly on him.

The next thing she knew, he was over her, with her back to the ground, legs pinned, arms behind her back, and a knife to her throat. She opened her eyes to see Clint smirking above her, with a look of victory.

"Okay, you win." She said with a roll of her eyes, and he immediately backed off her allowing her to sit up.

When he held his hand out as a gesture to help her up, she gingerly took it, only to be pulled to her feet and crash into him, when she heard his voice whisper in her ear, "Nice try sweetheart, Hawk one, spider zero."

And with that he walked off, out of the gym. Leaving an Ex-Russian spy to wonder what had just happened.

But she couldn't help the small smile that came over her. She just might have a new friend.

**Third mission as partners… clint's Pov**

It was their third mission as partners and it had gone smoothly. They had gotten into the building, her directly, him discreetly. Spied on the target, terminated target silently, and silently left without a trace.

They now were in their hotel room, exhausted after a day's work. Both were wary of the other, and the fact that they would have to share the same bed. Still distrustful, they both changed in the bathroom; Him into a tight cotton white v-neck and grey sweatpants, and her into a tank top and pair of shorts.

When both were ready, they paused, standing on each side of the bed.

"Well, how do you want to do this?" Clint asked with droopy eyes. It had been three nights since he's slept due to nightmares, and he was sure he would crash tonight.

Natasha shrugged in the awkwardness. They had become friends but it was still weird. "I'll take one side, you take the other. Simple as that." She claimed.

He gave a nod and flopped onto the bed, making sure to stay on his side of the bed as he got comfortable. She mirrored his moves and they both pulled the covers up to their chins and went to sleep, each facing away from the other.

3:00 AM, Clint woke up to the sound of struggling and immediately pulled his knife out from under his pillow, only to see nothing out of the ordinary in the room.

He frowned, and then looked over at his partner as of a month now, and saw that it was coming from her. She was thrashing, and kicking, as if she were in restraints. Grunts of frustration escaped her lips, and she started talking, "don't hurt her! Please!"

He frowned worriedly. He didn't know what she was dreaming about, but he could guess that it was a part of her past she never wanted to relieve again, yet here she was trapped in the memory.

He was about to shake her awake, when she suddenly screamed which caught him off guard and he completely sat up in bed. "Widow, wake up." He said softly.

"No, _please,"_ was his only reply.

"Widow?" he said again.

She continued thrashing. He dare not touch her, he knew her boundaries, and he was about to cross one by calling her this,

"Natasha?"

Still no sign of the nightmare stopping.

"Nat?" he called, gently nudging her with his hand.

With a jerk she sat up screaming murder, until she suddenly stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was her ragged breathing.

Her eyes were frantically searching her surroundings until she turned and they met with his worried grey-blue eyes.

"Where…" she began to say.

He shushed her quietly, "it's ok. You're safe."

Her eyes were still full of terror. "M…my sister, s…she died. I couldn't stop it." She said when he noticed her entire body was shaking.

He was actually surprised by this. He knew everything about the black widow, everything except who she was _before _the red room. He never knew she had a sister. "Nat, it's going to be okay. You were just having a nightmare."

She looked into his colored eyes with her green ones and silence filled their ears. Her violent shaking still not deceased. Finally she gave him a small nod, to show him she now understood what was going on.

"You okay?" he asked one more time as they started both settling back into the comfort of the covers. She nodded once again, with a small 'yes' and he nodded, also laying down again, allowing his tense muscles to relax. "Kay' night."

He lay on his side trying to return to sleep for a few minutes before he realized what was keeping him up. The bed was shaking slightly, and when he realized what it was he turned to face her, only seeing the outline of her back to him. His suspicions were confirmed when he noticed that she was still shivering frantically.

"Nat?" he asked cautiously.

She turned slowly to face him, so they face each other, and he noticed the small glow of the room reflect off of her wet eyes. Seeing her so small and vulnerable made him sad. He was used to seeing her either cold and harsh, closed and cut off. Now, he could see all the pain she has been stuffing away for years now, built up in each tear, and each quiver of her lips.

Slowly, he inched forward, and eventually found himself wrapping his arms around her small frame, pulling her into his chest comfortingly. Surprisingly, she let him. She even snuggled farther into his scent, taking in the years of deprived comfort.

After a few moments, her shaky voice was heard, "I had nice parents just like any other family you know. The red room killed them."

Clint was surprised and saddened by her confession, "I'm sorry Natasha." He whispered. "I know how hard that must have been for."

She shook her head against his chest, and he could feel his shirt was slightly damp where her head was. "You don't understand." She said, anger laced in her tears. "No one does."

She continued her rant quietly, mumbling against him, "My sister and I were close. She was killed by them also. They had to choose between her and me. I had heard about how horrible the red room was, so I volunteered to go in her place. So they killed her too"

Clint took a breath. This was the most vulnerable she'd ever been with him, most likely with anyone. If only she knew. He knew all too well about pain, about death, about feeling like no one understood.

"You'd be surprised." He said quietly, slowly rubbing her back with his hand.

He felt her look up at him questioningly, so he continued…

"My father was an alcoholic and my mother was a drug addict. He abused me, she abandoned me." he said, trying to avoid the pain from slipping into his voice as he felt the familiar pain leak into his heart.

He heard the small gasp that she took in surprise.

A few minutes passed, and they remained in that position. Until she mumbled, "I'm sorry about your parents. Did you have any siblings?"

His hand movements on her back stopped, and his whole body tensed. "No…" he lied. On a normal day, she probably would have been able to detect the lie, but she was too lost in her own past to catch it now.

More silence filled the room until he felt her tense body suddenly go lax. Her soft breath went into a steady pace against his neck and he knew she was asleep.

He remained wide awake with the Widow curled up against him. Bringing Barney back into his thoughts was a big mistake, and he knew he would not be able to sleep again tonight.

_Oh well, _he thought, _at least she got asleep okay._ Clint found himself content with the outcome, except for the painful memories that had awoken when he thought about Barney. But he did what he does best, and pushes it all down and away. Out of sight and out of mind.

**Natasha's Pov:**

The next morning Tasha woke up in more comfort than she'd ever had in her life. She felt warm, but not too hot, she felt secure, but not immovable, she felt safe.

She opened her eyes when she realized she was pressed against something. The object was warm, and her vision was filled with something soft and grey. Suddenly, her heart missed at least three beats when she realized it was Clint. She was nuzzling into Clint? Why the heck was she doing that?

Then last night's memories came rushing back to her. She remembered her confession about her family, and him making sure she was okay and trying to comfort her. She remembered his confession about his parents, and the thought hurt her. Then she remembered crying, and looked down to see a small damp spot on Clint's white shirt.

Immediately she felt embarrassed by her weakness, yet after letting go, she felt slightly better. She just wished she hadn't been so vulnerable around her partner.

She shifted just slightly in his arms, and was surprised when she heard his voice, "morning'" he said calmly. She was also surprised by how awake he sounded. How long had he been up?

"Morning," she said awkwardly when she was aware that they were still in this position. He seemed to have felt the same thing as he abruptly pulled his arms back and sat up. "Uh, sleep better?" he said quickly swinging legs over the edge of the bed and standing.

She nodded, and sat up, letting the covers fall to her lap.

The awkward silence consumed them until Natasha decided she owed him at least an apology, "I'm sorry about that by the way. I didn't mean to… fall apart."

He raised his eyebrows at her, "Nat, you have nothing to apologize for. We're partners; we watch each other's backs."

"And… was it true?" she asked sheepishly. She wasn't exactly sure if she had dreamed part of last night.

"True about what?" he said giving her a questioning look.

"True about you parents."

His face immediately darkened, and she took it as a yes. She felt horrible about the thought of a young Clint getting beat up by his parents.

"And you had no siblings to help you? Clint, I'm so sorry." She said sincerely, surprised by the softness in her own voice.

She didn't think it was possible, but his face darkened even more. The look he gave her was so dead and hollow, it was as if Clint's soul had left his body and all that was left was his empty body.

Seeing him like this made her retreat, "never mind. I'm sorry I was just wondering." She said quickly, and got up to get ready to shower.

Before closing the bathroom door, she turned in the doorway, "and Clint?"

He turned and looked at her, still hollow.

"Thanks." She said again, and closed the door with a click.

And as she locked the door behind her, realization hit her. Had he called her Natasha? And Nat?

They only ever called each other by code names, so this surprised her.

Another realization hit her when she realized she had called him Clint.

That day, Clint and Natasha had grown just a little closer.

* * *

_**Five years later...**__ Clint and Natasha help a group of hero's take down a god who tried to send an alien army to invade earth. They helped defend Manhattan and soon after found themselves sitting around atable eating shawarma.__**...**_

_****_Clint looked over at Natasha. He had his leg up on the back of her chair, and was picking at the shawarma. Everyone was silent, except tony of course who was mumbling to everyone about the most random things.

Natasha and Clint met eyes and gave each other small smiles...

"этот материал отврати" he said in Russian. _this stuff is disgusting_

__She smiled ever so slightly, that no one else caught it. They all just stared at Clint confusingly.

"Я согласен" she responded. _i agree_

__Silence filled the Avenger's table, and they looked at the two assassins with eyebrows raised. None of them missed the fact that she talked more often now that Clint was here.

"уставиться на нас" Clint said eying their teammates. _everyone's staring at us_

****She looked at everyone with a small glance and nodded. Then added sincerely, "Я рад ваша спина" _i'm glad your back_

__Clint's lips turned up in a smirk, "Я также, возлюбленный" he said with a wink, that got a couple of gasps from the team. _Me too sweet heart_

* * *

** this is a random really long oneshot i wrote on a lazy day so... hope ya liked it! **

**and now i'll start working on my next chapter for My other story Forgotten Memories. I'm pumped!**


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